


the jean wayne

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Erejean Week 2015, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jean’s faced with the elusive question, he’s seventeen and Eren’s sixteen, fresh with a new license and a shitty used car with beige leather seats that smell like smoke from the previous owner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the jean wayne

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 1 of erejean week: roadtrips!
> 
> the funny thing is, i had started writing this dumb fic like, at least four months ago but i had abandoned it cause i got uninspired. but then erejean week prompts were announced and lo and behold the first prompt was roadtrips so i decided to pick this fic back up and finish it yaaass

_It's easy to fall in love_  
_It's easy to fall in love with you_

 _You talk to me like that_  
_You knew I was slowly falling in love with you_

_-the john wayne  
by little green cars_

 

 

\--

 

The first time Jean’s faced with the elusive question, he’s seventeen and Eren’s sixteen, fresh with a new license and a shitty used car with beige leather seats that smell like smoke from the previous owner.

Eren pulls up to his house, honks until Jean bursts outside, glare on his face and clad in only boxers and a sleep shirt, hair sticking up in a million different directions and eyes crusted with sleep.

“What the _fuck_? It’s five in the goddamned morning on a Saturday!”

Eren leans out the window of his car and says, “Wanna go somewhere?”

“ _What_?” Jean asks incredulously, voice still raspy with sleep. “Where?”

“I’unno,” Eren shrugs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Chicago?”

Jean blinks. “Eren, Chicago is five hours away.”

“Yeah?”

“We can’t just - we can’t just _leave_.”

Eren frowns. “Why not?”

Jean walks closer to the car, rubs his eye with his knuckle, and the sparkling droplets of morning dew are cold under his bare feet, the wet grass sticking to his skin. “Why do you want to go to Chicago?”

Eren shrugs again, and averts his eyes. Jean’s known Eren only since eighth grade, when they were both dumb and terrified and ended up getting paired together for an English project. They almost scratched each other’s eyes out, but in the process, formed some weird sort of friendship. Over the past year, Jean’s learned the weird, strange little quirks about Eren. The way he bites his lip when he’s about to laugh because he hates the way it sounds. The way he speaks in vague, unintelligible sentences late at night when he calls Jean at two in the morning when he can’t sleep. The way he’s always seems so restless, staring out the window wherever he happens to be. His blinds are always open, and he always tries to get the window seats at school. Like he needs to be close to freedom. Like he believes he may just be trapped here forever.

Jean sighs. “Eren, I can’t just - you have to _plan_ these things.”

Eren frowns again. “I’ve never been outside of this town.”

“And what makes you think going to Chicago as a young, inexperienced new driver by _yourself_ is a good idea?”

“I invited you,” Eren says matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t be by myself.”

“Well, I’m not fucking going,” Jean grumbles. “I’m going back to bed.”

He turns around, and doesn’t look back to watch Eren’s car speed away into the on-coming sunrise.

\--

Eren’s car ends up breaking down about an hour outside of the city and Jean has to borrow his mom’s van to go and get him. On the way back - tow truck trailing behind them with Eren’s shitty car -  Eren stares out the window, silent.

Jean turns up the music and purses his lips.

\--

The second time Jean’s faced with the question, it’s the summer before their first year of college and Eren has a new car that he spent the rest of highschool saving up for with his depressing part-time job at Subway. It’s still kind of shitty and it’s still used, but it doesn’t smell like smoke. It smells like fucking vanilla, because Armin bought Eren a dumb cupcake shaped air freshener a few weeks ago that hangs proudly on his rearview mirror.

Eren pulls up to Jean’s house, and Jean’s already waiting outside on his porch. Eren has just gotten off work, still in his goddamned uniform, and they’re supposed to go see a movie, so Jean’s pretty surprised when he climbs into the passenger seat and Eren turns to him, says,

“Wanna go somewhere?”

Jean knows he _shouldn’t_ be surprised, and he knows that tone of voice. It’s the same tone of voice Eren uses when it’s the middle of the night and his voice is a mere wisp of air over the phone line, tinny and quiet, the sound of the wind scratchy through the phone because Eren’s always lying on his driveway when he can’t sleep. Jean sneaks out sometimes, snatching his mom’s car keys because Eren’s house is a little too far to walk to, and when he gets there,  Eren’s always curled up in a blanket, staring up at the sky with this intent look in his eyes.

Jean turns to him now, raises an eyebrow, and says, “Sure.”

Eren looks surprised, but then he breaks out into this wide, bright grin that causes something warm and tingly to pool deep in Jean’s stomach. “Really?” He says, and Jean shrugs, because he’s gotten a little bit over his uptight, grade-A attitude once senior year ended because he realized there’s so much more to life than following the sharp corners of the small box he had confined himself to. To be honest, ever since he started getting closer to Eren, the clear lines of that box started to progressively blur. Jean can’t say he entirely minds.

“Where do you wanna go?” Jean asks, leaning back in the seat and propping his feet up on the dashboard. Eren gives him a look but doesn’t yell at him to take his feet down like usual. Probably because he’s scared Jean will take back what he said.

“Not quite sure, actually,” Eren replies, putting the car in drive and pulling away from Jean’s house, heading towards the highway. “I guess we’ll find out.”

\--

They end up in Kansas City, and a few minutes after they drive past the state line welcoming them to the area, Eren takes the next exit. It’s a small looking town, and he drives for a bit until he sees a sign that says ‘Paul’s Famous Steak Burgers - Open 24-Hours!’. He whips into the parking lot, hops out of the car, and is inside the restaurant before Jean has even managed to unbuckle his seat belt.

It’s a ratty looking diner, and Jean can feel the grease on his skin before he even sits down in the seat across from Eren. The booth seats are squeaky and puke-yellow colored, and Jean makes a face when he takes his hand off of the slightly sticky table. Eren’s rapidly looking at the menu, eyes shifting back and forth, and Jean sees the way his lids droop every once in a while, the way he jerks his head to wake himself back up, blinking rapidly before doing the same thing over again.

“Want me to drive after this?”

Eren looks up. “You know how to drive a stick?”

Jean sighs. “No. Do you think you can at least drive us to a motel or something then? You look like you’re about to pass the fuck out, you can’t drive any more tonight, dude.”

“Can’t afford a motel,” Eren mumbles, flipping through the menu. “We’ll just crash in my car and drive home in the morning.”

Jean wants to protest, but he can’t afford a motel either, so he guesses their only option is Eren’s car. The car isn’t terribly small, pretty average in size, but Jean tries not to think of the argument they’re going to have on who gets the backseat. He also tries not to think about how it would probably not be too uncomfortable to have Eren sprawled on top of him. He’d be warm, like he always is, and his body would be a soft weight on Jean’s chest.

A wadded up straw wrapper hits him in the cheek, and Eren snorts on a laugh when Jean jumps and causes the salt shaker on the table to knock over.

“You spilled the salt,” Eren exclaims, but he’s still biting his lip on a grin. “You’re gonna have bad luck now.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“No, you have to throw some salt over your left shoulder,” Eren says, and then furrows his brows. “No wait. Maybe it’s the right shoulder.”

“I’m not throwing salt over my fucking shoulder.”

“But - ”

“It’s just a dumb superstition,” Jean mumbles, taking a sip of his water. “Like I don’t have enough bad luck already anyways. What’s a little more gonna do to me?”

Eren rolls his eyes. “You’re such a cynical asshole.”

But he nudges the toe of his shoe against Jean’s ankle, and Jean can feel his cheeks heating up when he nudges back. It’s more of a kick than a nudge, though, and Eren grunts before hooking both of his ankles behind Jean’s to keep him still. Jean swallows, looks up when the waitress approaches their table.

They stay like that for the whole meal, legs hooked and tangled beneath the table, and Jean hates to admit how nice it is. Doesn’t want to admit to himself how nice it is sitting here with Eren at three in the morning in a random fucking city at a shitty diner in a sticky booth, eating an undercooked burger and having Eren’s feet pressed against his calves.

After they finish eating, Eren tosses a few bills on the table and grabs Jean’s wrist, tugging him out and ignoring his protests of splitting the bill.

“Shut up,” Eren says, “you don’t even have a fuckin’ _job_.”

And Jean hates to admit it, but Eren’s right. The measly ten bucks he has in his wallet wouldn’t even cover their whole meal anyways, so he just sighs and lets himself be dragged to the car. Eren’s fingers are greasy from the fries he just ate, and when he lets go of Jean’s wrist, the taller boy makes a face and wipes the grease off on his shirt.

When he looks up, Eren’s sitting on the hood of the car, eyes pointed towards the sky. Jean follows his gaze, and rolls his eyes because they can’t even see the fucking stars. It’s a cloudy night anyways, and the street lights in the parking lot are bright and burning. Eren’s still staring up though, as if he sees something nobody else can see, and Jean sometimes wonders if one day, Eren’s going to go on one of these spontaneous trips again, but then not come back at all. He knows Eren has his issues, has his faults and set backs and regrets and Jean knows his mother passed away when he was fifteen (remembers Eren coming to school the next day with red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands, remembers dragging him into the bathroom and watching Eren punch the wall so hard the skin on his knuckles split and bled).

Eren’s always been this tight coiled up ball of emotions, and over the years Jean’s learned how to deal with them. He’s learned how to predict the moods that Eren gets in, and sometimes it scares Jean how much he _knows_ Eren.

The wind sends chills up his spine, and Jean crosses his arms over his chest, rocking back impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Eren, you fuck, stop being a nostalgic hipster and open the fuckin’ car. I’m _cold_.”

Eren snorts out a laugh and hops off the hood of the car, finally unlocking the doors, and Jean’s diving into the backseat before Eren can even say anything. He sprawls out, wincing when the seatbelt buckle digs into his spine, and he glares when Eren cranes his head back to raise an eyebrow at him.

“This is a horrible idea. My back is going to be so sore tomorrow,” Jean complains.

“Wanna switch spots?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

Jean grumbles and squirms around until he’s semi-comfortable. Eren lowers his seat back as far as it’ll go, and then he curls up, rests his knees on the steering wheel, and lets his head fall back on the headrest, letting out a quiet sigh before fluttering his eyes closed.

\--

A heavy weight on his chest wakes him up, and Jean blearily opens his eyes, grunting when an elbow jabs him in the ribs.

“The fuck?”

“Go back to sleep,” Eren mumbles, wiggling around until he’s settled more comfortably on Jean’s chest, nose pressed into the crook of Jean’s neck, breaths coming out warm and shaky. Jean grunts and shifts a bit, and Eren makes a quiet noise. “M’cold and my legs are cramped as fuck.”

“Whatever,” Jean grumbles, too tired to even care. Eren’s warm on top of him, and Jean finds himself unconsciously curling a hand around the back of Eren’s neck, his other arm dangling off the seat. Eren’s fingers curl into loose fists, tucked under his chin like a child, and he smells like diner food and drug store shampoo.

It’s not really that cold, but the closeness is nice, and in Jean’s sleep-hazy mind, he can’t help but think about how nice it would be if they were in an actual bed. How nice it would be to spoon up behind Eren, curl an arm around his slim waist and slip a hand up his threadbare t shirt to rest again soft, bare skin. Feel his stomach expand with every breath he takes.

When he wakes up in the morning, his back is throbbing from the buckle that was digging into his back all night, and his neck has a horrible crick in it. Both of Eren’s arms are wound around his middle, and Jean has a hand shoved up the back of Eren’s shirt, fingers pressed into the knobs of his spine.

The sun is bright as it spills through the windows of the car, the clock on the radio reads noon, and Jean slips the hand curled around Eren’s neck up to bury into his hair.

\--

The third time Jean’s faced with the question, it’s the day after his twenty-first birthday. He’s almost convinced that he’s _still_ drunk, because he can’t even remember what the fuck happened last night, he was so trashed. He blames Connie, mostly. And Armin. The kid looks sweet, but holy shit Jean’s one hundred percent convinced it was Armin’s sole mission to make sure Jean constantly had a shot in his hand the entire night.

Eren had to work so he couldn’t go, and Jean vaguely remembers Connie walking him back to him and Eren’s shared campus apartment, remembers stumbling in through the door and face planting the couch with his shoes still on.

When he wakes up, a scratchy fleece blanket is thrown over him and his shoes are sitting neatly next to the coffee table. The lights are on, and Jean squeezes his eyes shut and groans loudly, covering his face with the blanket and curling back up into a ball. He can hear rattling around in the kitchen, and then a loud voice,

“You awake yet, princess?”

Jean makes a noise like he’s dying. Which he might be, actually. Dying, that is.

“You’re not dying, fuckass,” Eren says in response to the groaning and whining, and then he’s sitting on Jean’s legs and shoving a cup of coffee in his face. “Here. Drink.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“Drink your coffee and then go puke. I made that nasty hazelnut shit you like.”

Jean peeks his eye open, wriggling until Eren sits more comfortably on his shins (which, admittedly, still isn’t all that comfortable, but Jean knows Eren’s not getting up until he finishes this fucking coffee). Eren has this weird thing with _praise_ , like he has to know he’s doing good, that he’s done good, and after Jean takes a long sip of his coffee, he yawns and mumbles out a quiet,

“S’good.”

Eren beams at him and finally gets up, says, “Hurry up and puke. Then shower and get dressed. Let’s go somewhere.”

Jean can’t even find it in himself to argue, because to be honest, since that time in Kansas city, he’s been waiting for Eren to ask again. To drag him along on one of his dumb, needy, wanderlust-filled trips. He never pegged himself as the spontaneous type until he met Eren, really. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s weirdly freeing, and maybe it’s because he gets to spend it with Eren and experience with _Eren_ , but Jean tries not to think about that part of it.

When Jean finally empties his guts, he showers and gets dressed, and when he makes his way to the kitchen, a couple of aspirin and a glass of water are waiting for him on the counter. Eren’s seated on the counter, playing some game on his phone, and his feet are dangling. kicking back and forth like a child, stupidly excited for wherever he’s deciding to take Jean. For some reason he seems more eager today, and Jean wonders if he actually has a planned destination this time.

The medicine is bitter against his tongue, and once he’s chugged the small glass of water, Eren hops off the counter, grabs Jean’s wrist and tugs him towards the door.

“C’mon, if we don’t leave now we’re not gonna get there in time,” he says, clearly distracted as he tugs on a hoodie and digs his car keys out of his pocket.

“In time for what?”

“Why don’t you have your shoes on yet, dumbass? C’mon!”

Jean sighs and gracelessly manages to shove his shoes on before he’s following Eren out, using his own keys to lock up the place because Eren always fucking forgets.

“How far away are we going?” Jean asks, settling in the passenger seat and tugging his hood up, curling up and bringing his knees up to his chest. He’s still nauseous, and the sunlight is giving him a headache.

“Not that far,” Eren says as he backs the car out of the parking space, which in reality probably means ‘really fucking far’.

Jean closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”

“Fuck you, don’t fall asleep,” Eren whines, punching Jean in the shoulder. “I need someone to entertain me while I drive.”

“You’re the one who wanted to go somewhere,” Jean mumbles.

“Yeah, and _you’re_ the one who agreed to come with me.”

Jean can’t find it in himself to argue with that, so he peeks open his eyes and sighs, watching the early afternoon sunlight glow along Eren’s nose and jawline, glaring off of his stupidly large sunglasses he stole from his sister. There’s even rhinestones along the sides, and Jean snorts inaudibly as he stretches, sitting up a bit more to keep himself from falling asleep.

“If I stay awake, I get to pick the music,” Jean says, opening the glove box and digging through the stack of CD’s shoved inside. Eren looks like he wants to protest, but in the end just grumbles and lets Jean shove some indie shit into the CD player.

He’s finding it harder and harder to stay awake, his hangover making his limbs heavy, invisible bags of sand weighing him down. When he glances over and sees Eren singing along to Little Green Cars, voice raspy but soothing, a sand bag settles heavy on his chest. Jean tries to blame that on the hangover also, but deep down he knows it’s something completely different.

Eren’s bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top, Jean notes, and they look soft. Slightly pink, and shiny-wet when Eren darts out a tongue to wet them before singing the next verse of the song. The sleeves of his sweater are rolled up to the elbow, and his thumbs are tapping a continuous beat on the steering wheel. It’s stupid, really, how warm Jean feels when looking at him. Dumb shit, like the way Eren’s eyelashes are weirdly long, and like the way his face is distinctly soft looking. Round, but defined. Cute, if Jean were to be honest with himself.

Which he isn’t. At all, being honest with himself. He doesn’t have time for shit like that, anyways.

Whatever. His head fucking hurts.

“I need advil. Or vicodin,” Jean mutters, pulling his gaze away from Eren’s face and the way the sunlight casts a definitive shadow across his nose.

“Um,” Eren says, poking his tongue out as he reaches into the middle console, sifting through forgotten parking tickets and old cassette tapes until he comes back up with a small medicine bottle. He tosses it to Jean, and Jean purses his lips, squinting his eyes as he opens up the bottle and dumps a small, green lump into the palm of his hand.

“Weed?” Jean sighs, closing his eyes as he feels another oncoming headache.

“Weed,” Eren confirms, grinning over at him toothily, and Jean’s stomach does a few flips.

“I think I might actually puke if I inhale this shit.”

“Yeah, but at least the headache part of your hangover will feel better,” Eren points out. Jean just grunts and puts the substance back into the bottle, popping the cap back on and shoving it back into the middle console.

“Are we almost there? We’ve been driving for like….what, three hours? Four?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Eren corrects, “And no. We’ve still got about three more hours.”

Jean makes another noise as if he’s dying, and Eren snorts out a laugh, says, “You can sleep if you _really_ want to, dude.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jean groans, immediately reclining his seat as far as it’ll go, toeing of his shoes, and curling up against the door. “Wake me when we get to hell.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

\--

Jean’s shivering when he wakes up, rubs his eyes and notices Eren turned on the fucking air conditioner full blast because the damn idiot always seems to be warm. Jean tugs his hoodie sleeves down over his knuckles, sitting up and stretching a bit before glancing over at Eren. The sun is behind them now, not so much in their eyes, and Eren has his sunglasses shoved up on top of his head, pushing his hair back from his face and giving him a pseudo-hipster look that makes Jean sick to his stomach for finding so attractive. Fuck.

“Are we almost - ”

“Fifteen minutes,” Eren interjects, voice calm and tired, and Jean’s already preparing himself for the begging puppy dog eyes Eren’s going to give him later on, asking Jean to drive them back so Eren doesn’t have in inhale a gallon of Red Bull just to get them home. They might just crash in the car again, Jean not too concerned about missing class tomorrow, but then Jean’s thinking about that night in Kansas City a couple years ago, the night he may or may not have gotten punched in the face with the realization that he _might_ like Eren a little bit more than a friend.

Jean’s done a pretty successful job of keeping those feelings at bay, he’d say. Even held up a relationship with a sweet nursing student he met his freshman year. But realistically, that didn’t work out. Which makes Jean remember the night the dude dumped him, and the fact that he felt almost _relieved_ , and instead of moping he’d played Xbox with Eren until the sunlight rose, their shoulders pressed together and heads lolled against one another as they dozed in between checkpoints.

The radio is playing the Beach Boys, of all things, and Jean bumps the volume knob with his knuckle, cranking it up just a bit, and the corners of Eren’s lips twitch, fighting off a smile when Jean starts humming along.

“It’s okay,” Eren says seriously, car slowing to a stop at a traffic light.

Jean purses his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s okay?”

“I know you love the Beach Boys, Jean.”

“Fuck you, I hate the Beach Boys,” Jean retaliates, but there’s no venom in his words, and he’s biting his lip on a smile as he unsubtly reaches over to turn the volume up just a little bit higher. “Also, are we _there yet_?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Are you _serious -_ wait, really?” Jean perks up, sitting up straight and looking out the window, and when he sees Eren pulling into a parking spot, Jean frowns.

“A grocery store? You drove me six hours to go grocery shopping?”

Eren snorts on a laugh and turns the car off. “No, asshole. I just don’t want to pay the parking fee near the dock so we’re walking the rest of the way.”

“Dock…?” Jean mumbles, shoving his shoes back on, and when he steps out of the car, something crisp and unmistakably fresh fills his nose, the air swimming with it. “What state are we in?”

And Eren turns and grins at him, hair ruffled from the wind as he pockets his keys and rocks back on his heels. “Michigan. I couldn’t exactly afford the gas to trek us all the way to Cali, so.”

Jean runs a hand through his hair, bumps Eren’s shoulder with his own as they start walking. Eren seems restless, keeps checking his watch and glancing up at the sky as if he’s waiting for something, and Jean’s dumb, but not _that_ dumb, and he feels a small bubble of warmth prickle and explode deep in his chest with the realization that Eren drove six hours, timing it just right, so that he could watch the sunset on a beach.

Even if it’s just the simple rock-filled sands and fresh waters of Lake Michigan instead of the tropical salty oasis that somewhere out West would have provided, it’s still a _beach_ , and when they finally make it to the dock area, Eren’s already leaping onto the gritty sand, running until he’s almost touching the incoming water with his toes.

“So, how much longer?” Jean asks, coming up to stand next to Eren, eyes gazing up at the sun hanging low in the sky, nearing the horizon.

“Ten minutes, just about,” Eren says eagerly, and his hands are balled into excited fists, hair whipping his cheeks in the rapid wind. It’s chilly outside, early Spring air causing goosebumps to rise on Jean’s skin, but Eren looks as if he’s glowing with warmth. Jean scoots closer just a tad, pressing the length of their bodies together, and Eren turns to him, eyes wide as he tilts his head up towards Jean.

“Can’t believe you stuffed me in a car for six hours with a hangover just to watch the sun go down,” Jean mumbles, and Eren’s cheeks go slightly pink, because wow, when you put it like _that_ , he guesses he does sound a bit silly, but. Whatever.

“Tomato, tomahto,” Eren says quietly, and when he turns back to the water, he gasps, eyes going wide because it’s _beautiful_.

There are a few clouds in the sky, giving it more of a dreary look rather than a warm one, but the sun is kissing the water now, deep, deep orange with a hint of purple, and Eren can feel ice cold water slosh over his shoes as he walks a bit closer but he doesn’t even care because he feels like he could fall forward and only feel stagnant air holding his body afloat.

“It’s perfect,” Eren whispers, and Jean feels a prickling twist in his gut, thinks _fuck it. fuck it, I don’t even_ care _anymore._ Because if Eren can look this free, can look this _home,_ at some shitty beachside in some shitty state, his toes probably beginning to freeze off in his sopping wet shoes, than Jean decides he can be free today too. But just for today.

When he kisses Eren, Eren gasps against his mouth, one hand coming up to grab the collar of Jean’s hoodie. Jean nudges their noses, wraps Eren up in his arms like he’s wanted to for so goddamned long, and breathes.

What he’s _not_ expecting, is for Eren to knee him in the gut and then shove him down into the sand. Jean grunts as they roll around, sand making his teeth feel gritty. Eren growls as he finally manages to pin Jean down, straddling his waist before leaning down more, faces so close their noses are touching.

“You fucking asshole,” Eren hisses, fisting the front of Jean’s hoodie. “I drive six fucking hours to see the sunset and then you kiss me in the middle of it. I _missed the ending_.”

“There’s no ending,” Jean breathes out almost hysterically as he digs his fingers into Eren’s knees. “It’s a _sunset_ , you fuckhead.”

And then Eren grins, the sharp points of his teeth showing before he ducks down and kisses Jean again. Eren kisses like he talks; sloppy, enthusiastic, rough. Jean’s almost worried he’s going to find blood staining both of their teeth later, but he can’t bring himself to care because Eren’s relaxing against him, warm and heavy on his chest, and Jean wraps his arms around Eren’s waist, hefting him closer as he grins against the boy’s mouth.

“Fuck, I love you,” Jean manages, voice strained as if the thought physically pains him, and Eren turns an enticing shade of red as he pulls back and punches Jean none-too-gently in the shoulder.

“Fuck you,” he breathes, licking his lips before pressing a stupidly chaste kiss to the corner against Jean’s mouth. “Me too. You’re a piece of shit, but I love you. I do.”

“You do?” Jean grins, cupping the back of Eren’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.

“Yeah,” Eren whispers, “yeah. I do.”

Jean drives them home that night, Eren’s head pillowed in his lap, and  - infinite road-head jokes aside -  Jean’s honestly never felt more free in his life.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> also this is literally based off the time that i actually, completely got in my car and drove six hours to michigan lake beach in the dead of winter just so i could see the sunset. and then i proceeded to get lost and had to call 911 and i almost died but - u kno. thats a story for another time lol
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com) yo


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